


Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men

by ariadne_bee



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard
Genre: (AU in which Axis didn't happen), Brotherhood, Christmas, F/M, Flirting, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_bee/pseuds/ariadne_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor needs a place to stay, and Loki has a couch. Also featuring Chinese food, boys playing Xbox, Christmas decorations in New York, snow flurries, family, friendship, flirting, and people swearing they're not flirting.</p>
<p>  <i>"You don't see the irony in dragging two Norse gods to the center of Christmasville?" Loki asks.</i></p>
<p>  <i>"Irony schmirony," Verity says. "Didn't you ever see Charlie Brown Christmas? It's just a big commercial racket these days."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men

**Author's Note:**

> (Kind of AU – would take place sometime after Agent of Asgard #7, but only in an AU in which Axis didn't happen...)

It's a Thursday when Thor shows up at Loki's apartment door, which Loki thinks is pretty fitting. "Sorry, I already bought Girl Scout cookies from the girl downstairs," Loki says with a straight face – which is true; he has three boxes of the chocolate-caramel-coconut ones in his kitchen, and one box of Thin Mints, which he bought on impulse, thinking Verity might like them. "Or are you selling chocolates to fundraise an Avengers field trip?"

But Thor doesn't even crack a smile – if anything, his hangdog expression grows even more mournful. Loki sighs, and steps back, gesturing through the door. "Well, come in, then, don't stand there looking like Eeyore." 

When Thor doesn't even reply to the pop culture reference that had to have gone over his tall blond head, Loki knows something is seriously awry. He shuts the door and heads straight to the fridge, as Thor sits down heavily on the couch. Loki holds out a brown bottle and takes a sip from his own. "All right. Spill. What's breaking your heart? Fight with the boyfriend? Which one is it this time, Stark or Banner?"

But this only earns him a half-hearted eyeroll and deep sigh. "I would rather than every friend I have had turned me out on the street, brother, than this." Thor flicks the cap off his bottle and downs half of it in one quaff.

"Hey, that's quality stuff," Loki objects absently. "Won a New York craft beer award last year. Now what do you mean? What happened?"

"Mjolnir." It sounds like it hurts for him to say it out loud. "Mjolnir. I... I cannot lift it."

"Okay..." Loki says, drawing out the word and trying to find the right response. "So where is it?"

"On the moon."

Well, that was unexpected. "Oh, of course. What could you possibly have done on the moon to make yourself unworthy of your trusty hammer?"

Thor's face shutters immediately. "It wasn't – that's not important." He focuses on the beer bottle in his hands, turning it around and studying the yellow and red label. 

He doesn't want to admit to what he's done. Loki can respect that. "Okay. Not important. Check. We can focus on the issue at hand." He glances at Thor's hands, twiddling the beer bottle. "We can get roaring drunk. I'm just... surprised? That you decided to come here? Not that you're not totally welcome here," he adds, just in case that makes Thor cry, or create a rainstorm, or something.

Thor doesn't seem to notice. "You told our sister," he half-mumbles, which is truly strange coming from him. "You offered her... shelter, should she find herself in need."

"Angela?" Loki frowns for a moment. "Of course, right, but– oh." He looks at his brother as the realization dawns. "Did they actually throw you out?"

"Nay." The words are heavy coming out of his mouth. "I have stood beside them since losing my... since then. But if I am not worthy of Mjolnir, then I am not worthy to call myself a hero."

Loki nods. He wants to say something reassuring, something about how he's sure Thor will find his worthiness again or something, whatever it is his brother needs to hear – after all, he is the god of lies – but the tease of redemption that's just out of reach is too uncomfortably familiar, so he reaches for humor instead. "Well, you're definitely welcome to crash here for a while. What's good enough for our estranged 'who knew she even existed' sister is good enough for my 'I've tried to kill you a hundred times' brother."

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. The last time Thor wanted to to know about his past selves, it took an entirely new realm to distract him. But there were no questions this time, just a tired half-smile. "Thank you. I promise, I shall not take advantage of your hospitality."

He waves his hand at Thor. "Take advantage away. You know I would do the same thing."

 

Loki comes to regret those words in less than an hour. He had turned on the tv, and Thor was distracted by one of those tattoo reality shows – which seemed a little random, as Thor had never (as far as Loki knew) had any interest in tattoos. But he seems content to gaze absently at the screen, and Loki finds himself sucked into watching as well, in that insidious way that reality tv has. 

When the doorbell rang, Loki jumps. "Shit," he says out loud, and runs his hand through his hair.

Thor looks up. "Did you have plans this evening? I'm sorry – I did not even ask, before barging in and–"

"No, no, it's fine," Loki says, casting a glance around his living room as he scrambles off the couch and toward the door. Dammit, he would have cleaned – the place isn't a mess or anything, but usually he'd try and make an effort, at least, though he's not really sure why. 

He pushes his fingers through his hair again and opens the door. "Hey," he says, leaning against the door casually. 

Verity smiles her usual "I see right through your bullshit" smile, and he grins. "What did you do?" she asks.

"Nothing!" he protests, eyes wide, fully aware that she knows he's lying. She gives him that little half-eyeroll that means that she knows that he knows, and he steps back and gestures for her to come in. "I may have forgotten to make dinner."

Verity's eyes widen at him. "You?" she asks, in mock astonishment. "The Norse God of Cooking? Forget dinner? How does that even happen?"

She steps through the doorway, and Loki turns to see Thor standing in front of the couch, smiling apologetically. "I fear that I was the source of his distraction," he says in his most contrite rumble. "Had I known that my brother was entertaining company, I would not have imposed on his hospitality."

Loki winces at his ridiculous formality – really, it had been years and years that they’d spent more time on Earth than Asgard; would Thor ever just leave the Shakespearean-esque crap behind? Although from the way Verity smiles, Loki has to wonder if he's on to something. "Don't be silly," she says, and she slips past Loki to greet Thor with a polite hug. "It's lovely to see you again." Loki rolls his eyes, then hopes she didn't see him do it. He didn't get a hug. "Are you staying for dinner with us?"

Thor hesitates on a reply, so Loki answers for him. "Actually, he's staying with me for a few days," he says. "He has some things going on, right now, and I told him, mi casa es su 'get out of here,' but he pretty much ignored me."

This earns him a smirk from Verity, and Thor only dignifies the comment by taking Verity's hand. "Do not let my brother deceive you," Thor says. "He has been more than gracious in agreeing to letting me stay here."

"Oh, your brother can't deceive me, remember?" Verity replies, though Loki feels it directed somehow to him. "I know everything about him."

Seems as good an opening as he's going to get, and Loki casually steps next to Thor to interrupt the mutual-Loki-slander bonding. "Then you know that I have everything for dinner in the fridge – the only problem being that none of it is on the stove. I am sorry," he says, honestly. "You know I look forward to the excuse to cook."

Verity waves away his apology. "It's no big deal, really – you cook for me all the time. Tonight we can get takeout. Chinese?"

Chinese is always Verity's second choice behind whatever crazy-complicated recipe Loki has decided to try out, so he's not surprised. "The place with the steamed pork buns?"

"God, yes, those are heaven. Do you still have a menu?" Loki nods, and heads to the kitchen. As he rifles through the handful of takeout menus in the junk drawer, he hears Verity asking Thor if Chinese is ok. "Sorry, I should have asked you, too."

It's impossible not to hear Thor's good-natured and overly polite reply, or Verity's amused laugh. Loki closes the drawer a little harder than strictly necessary. Although he's not sure why. He's certainly not jealous – he and Verity are just friends. There's nothing more there. He forces himself to stop scowling at the red-and-white menu and is smiling when he hands it to Thor. "Their orange chicken is good – not as good as mine, but..." Loki loftily waves his hand. "What can you do."

 

The Chinese food arrives after a half hour of chatter about Verity's tattoos – "Oh, I love this show," she says, spying the reality tv show and dropping onto the couch. Thor ever so politely compliments the ink twining up her arms, and Verity is more than happy to talk about it. Loki belatedly realizes that he's never asked her about her tattoos, even though he's fascinated that someone who is incapable of appreciating fiction has permanent fairies on her arms. Not that she gives away why, now that Loki dances around asking. She only rewards him with a wink, letting him know that she knows what he's asking, and tough shit. This is why he delights in the weird and unlikely friendship they have – the way she sees right through him and doesn't care. Even though he knows that if she really did know him, she would be gone.

But then they are unpacking the food, white containers of brown and fried rice, two orders of steamed pork buns, crinkling waxy envelopes of egg rolls. Verity tugs open the top of the boneless spare ribs and casually sets it down next to her plate. As if she didn't try to keep the entire container to herself every time. Thor is filling his plate with what looks like half of every main dish, so Loki snakes the orange chicken away from him and scoops some on top of his own brown rice. He debates waiting to steal Verity's boneless spare ribs until she's not looking, but can't resist and darts his chopsticks in front of her, snagging one off the top. He pops it into his mouth as she laughs and calls him a thief. He can't argue, but she bats his chopsticks away with her own when he reaches for another, and this time Thor laughs at him. 

It's nice.

They eat in front of the tv, which has changed to some show about collectibles. Loki makes up outrageous lies about knowing what each item is, occasionally convincing Thor that he knows what he's talking about, and inciting Verity to insult him in increasingly creative ways, both of which he finds deeply satisfying. When he tells them with a straight face that the weird-looking antique medical device (which turns out to be some kind of old light therapy machine) is definitely a Victorian sex toy, Thor's jaw drops and Verity actually throws an eggroll at him.

Eventually it gets late, and as always, despite Loki's usual intentionally-over-the-top propositions about Verity sleeping over, she gathers her things to go home. Thor kisses her hand, and Verity blushes (just a little, fighting to keep her poker face), and Loki grinds his teeth because clearly, if she wants to go home, his brother should just let her go and not waste her time flirting. She does give Loki her usual half hug good-bye, though, so he feels slightly mollified. Not that it matters, or anything.

Loki closes the door and turns around, easily catching the bottle of beer that Thor lobs at him. "You know they make these out of glass, right?" he snarks. "And that glass breaks if it falls on the floor?" Thor makes a rude gesture at him, and Loki gasps in mock horror. "This, from the man who kisses fair maidens' hands and apologizes for my rudeness?"

Thor chuckles. "She is a most captivating mortal," he says. "I can see why she charms you so."

Oh, no. Not having this conversation, not with Thor of all people. Loki takes a long swig. "She doesn't charm me, you oaf. She regularly verbally abuses me and occasionally throws things at me, and I put up with it because I deserve it. Plus she likes my cooking."

Thor chuckles again, and despite Loki's supernatural self-control, he finds himself biting his lips in something like irritation and covers it with another sip. "Of course," Thor says. "You don't try and impress her by laboring over dinner, and you're certainly not flirting with her when you tease her like a schoolboy tugging a girl's pigtails."

Loki chokes, his beer nearly going down the wrong pipe. "I do not!" he splutters indignantly. "It's not my fault that she thinks it's a good idea to let the god of mischief be her friend." He coughs and then tries to recover some kind of dignity, which is difficult with Thor's smug grin bestowed on him.

"Of course, brother," he says patronizingly. "You are just friends with Verity. Which is why you were glowering at me every time I spoke to her."

Loki wants to answer him back, something about 'glowering' at the appalling way he talks, like he's still taking the Asgardian court etiquette lessons they both played hooky from, but he's starting to feel like Thor is leading him into some kind of trap. Which seems highly unlikely, if he was honest with himself; but then, Loki is nothing if not a liar. "Besides, you were always the one pulling girls' hair to get their attention."

"Ah, but it was you who actually cut Sif's hair," Thor says, amused. "You may have taken it a little too far."

Loki groans. "Do we really have to drag that up again? Hundreds of years later and still, it always comes back to one stupid mistake..."

Thor's eyes are twinkling. Loki vaguely wants to punch him. "Because you wanted her to take notice..."

One punch. He wouldn't get in a second shot, but that would be okay. "I was a schoolboy! And she had eyes for no one but you." Thor looks away, but is still fighting a smile. "And I didn't mean for it to turn out that way."

"I'm just saying, brother," Thor says innocently, raising his beer, "I would strive to keep scissors away from Verity's hair, no matter–"

Loki does punch him then, in the shoulder – actually fairly hard – but Thor is already laughing too hard and doesn't react as the blow glances off. He debates hitting him again, but instead sits back against the couch with his beer and pretends that he has not been having this appalling conversation with his lout of an older brother.

 

When the bottles are empty and his vision has gone a little bleary, Loki decides that he's done for the night. He gets pillows and blankets for the couch, and Thor thumps him on the back with a heavy hand and thanks him again for letting him stay. Loki ducks his head and mutters something noncommittal and avoidant, and falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He sleeps like the dead and wakes with sun slanting through the blinds into his eyes. He staggers out of bed like the caffeine-deprived zombie that he is, stumbling on instinct toward the coffee pot. But the moment he opens his bedroom door, he's overcome by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Specifically, hazelnut coffee – smells like Thor found the good stuff. He is suddenly, indecently glad that he let Thor crash on the couch last night.

Still rubbing one eye, Loki makes it to the kitchen – the coffee is leading him on, like those cartoons where the dog follows the wavy lines from the pie on the windowsill – and then stops in surprise.

Thor is standing at the stove, spatula in hand. "Good morning!" he hails, in a voice that's a whole bunch of decibels too loud for first thing in the morning. 

Loki raises a hand in a half-awake wave. "You cooked?"

"Cooking, actually," Thor corrects. He looks down at the pan and flips over a pancake. "I hope you do not mind."

"Mind?" He shook his head. "Are you kidding? You made coffee. Anything else is– Is that bacon?" Thor nods, and Loki closes his eyes. "You're going to have to stay here permanently. I'll magic up a second bedroom or something. Right after I have my coffee." 

Thor hums a little, busy at the stove, and Loki gives him a bemused glance as he pours the coffee. "You even ground the beans for the good coffee," he says. "I didn't know you cooked."

"You are not the only one who can learn new things," Thor says, and expertly flips a pancake into the air. It lands on the pan exactly where it belongs. "It is not so hard as all that. And cooking for one's friends can be very satisfying."

Loki stirs sugar into his mug and drinks. If he could worship a deity, it would be caffeine. "Do we actually have something in common?"

Thor shrugs and flips a pancake from pan to plate. "Stranger things have happened," he says, and does an abysmal job of hiding his pleased smile.

"You say that, and yet..." 

Thor laughs. "Nothing stranger than us having something in common? I fear your response, brother, but must tell you that we also share an affinity for coffee." He raises a mug – Loki notes with amusement that it's the largest one he owns – and waves it alarmingly.

"Please don't break my crockery."

Thor waves it again, just to wind him up, and chuckles at the expression on Loki's face. "Come here and fetch yourself a plate, and even though you are a disgraceful pest, you may have some pancakes."

"And bacon," Loki reminds him, grabbing a plate with the hand not holding the life-sustaining coffee.

"And bacon," Thor agrees, piling food on the plate. "And carry the treacle of maple sugar out to the table."

"Thor. It says 'maple syrup' right on the bottle." Loki manages to balance syrup, plate, and mug, and carries it out of the kitchen. "You are absolutely doing that on purpose!" he calls over his shoulder.

 

The pancakes are excellent – Loki is impressed. He's going to have to invite Thor over for brunch more often. Just for the food. "So," Thor says, leaning back in his chair. "I do not want to keep you away from any pressing business you may need to attend to, today. I truly appreciate your hospitality, at this– as I–" He seems at a loss for words, and Loki watches the wave of despair roll across Thor's face as he considers why he is there, sleeping on the couch and making pancakes. His expression settles into something resembling a forlorn baby harp seal, and Loki can't stand it.

"I have nothing planned for today," he says, standing up from the table. "My most concrete plans involved the couch, snack foods, and the Xbox. And since having another person here for those plans actually makes me sound like less of a dismal slacker, you are more than welcome to join me."

"I wouldn't call you a dismal slacker," Thor says gravely. "I have always favored the term malingerer. Or laggard." Loki rolls his eyes and takes his plate to the sink. "Or layabout," Thor's voice continues, and Loki pretends that he hadn't seen the depression written across his face. 

When Thor is done cheering himself up by harassing him, and Loki has finished cleaning up the kitchen, he finds Thor in the living room, studying the spines of the Xbox game cases lined up neatly on their shelf. "Tell me about this Xbox," he says. "These titles. Advanced Warfare – games of war are truly universal, but I cannot fathom why one would play at vehicular theft?"

Loki peers over his shoulder. "Tell you what. Let's start with Call of Duty – I'll explain Grand Theft Auto to you later."

 

Thor is not a natural at Xbox. His hands are a little too big for the controller, and he mashes the buttons a little too hard ("Don't hit them, just press them gently! I swear, if you break that controller–"), but he's leaning forward in ferocious concentration and is absolutely determined to kick Loki's ass at this game. 

And apparently there's something to be said for playing by sheer force of will alone, because Loki's only barely escaping getting his ass kicked. "Whoa whoa whoa!" he shouts, flinching, as on-screen Thor rounds a corner and mows him down with a sub-machine gun. Off-screen, Thor roars in victory and leans to the side as he turns his character to circle back to where Loki's respawning. As soon as he reappears, Loki takes off, this time taking advantage of all the time he's spent playing this game to worm his way into a hidden corner inside a building, where he can crouch and peer through a broken window. It's not cheating, exactly, because it's part of the game; it just takes a trick to get there. He raises his sniper rifle and waits. 

On the other side of the split-screen, which he's resolutely not looking at (although he's starting to regret that decision), he can see rapid movement – Thor is running around, looking for him. He waits. Thor is getting a bit agitated, complaining out loud that he can't find Loki, but he doesn't say anything and just waits. Finally Thor's character crosses in front of the crosshairs on-screen, and Loki taps the button once. Thor's character falls.

The living room erupts into bedlam. Thor is outraged, howling that Loki cheated, and Loki can't stop laughing. "That was a foul move!" Thor bellows. "You vile wretch! You– you cheated!"

"I did not!" Loki yells back. "That was perfectly fair! Anybody can walk into that spot, there's nothing remotely dishonest about it! You just have to know that you can shoot through the wall to open up the passageway–"

But Thor is shouting over him again, and it just makes Loki laugh too hard to shout back, because it's like they're kids again, arguing over some ridiculous trick Loki has played. And he knows from the way Thor is squawking that he's not really, truly angry, that it's just his usual temper tantrum over being shown up by his little brother. 

His cell phone rings, and Thor's shouting subsides – he starts shoving Loki over on the couch, instead, as Loki retrieves the phone from between the cushions and answers it. "Ow, cut it out, that hurts. Hey, Verity," he says, "sorry, not you. Yes, he's trying to start a fight with me, the brute. Ow! Stop that!" He elbows Thor and catches him in the ribs, which for some reason makes Thor sit back and smile as though he's accomplished something. Loki stands up and paces toward the kitchen, turning his back to the couch. "So what's up?"

"I was mostly calling to see how you guys are doing," Verity says. "I know you don't always get along, so I figured he must be in a pretty bad place to come and stay with you."

"Yeah... Pretty much," Loki says, drawing it out. He doesn't want to say much with Thor there.

Thankfully, as always, Verity gets it. "That can be hard, even if you do get along," she says. "I thought maybe you could use some help with distracting him." 

Loki paces back toward the living room, where Thor is testing out the different buttons on the Xbox controller, even though apparently steering and pounding on one button was working for him. "Yeah, actually that sounds good," he says. "Did you have anything in mind?" Thor looks up from the game and gives Loki his most smug, knowing smile. Loki attempts to ignore him. 

Verity suggests going out into the city – "something to get him out of your apartment," she says, "and it probably wouldn't kill you to get out in the sunshine either" – implausibly, checking out the Christmas decorations in Rockefeller Center. 

"You don't see the irony in dragging two Norse gods to the center of Christmasville?" Loki asks.

"Irony schmirony," Verity says. "Didn't you ever see Charlie Brown Christmas? It's just a big commercial racket these days."

"Again, Norse god. Missed out on the Midgardian Christmas specials."

"You liar," she sniffs. “Besides, I bet Thor will love all the decorations and the giant tree."

Thor was, in fact, very excited to see the decorations and the giant tree. "I have become acquainted with the winter festivals in the time I have resided on Midgard," he tells Loki. "Their festivals of light are at the same time as the old feast days of Jul."

"Yes, but with fewer livestock sacrifices and less Odin," Loki says.

"True," allows Thor, "although they do revere a white-haired deity for the Christmas holiday."

"I don't think they actually worship Santa, although the presents are a different story.”

 

Loki isn’t too sure about Verity’s plan, since Rockefeller Center isn’t all that far from the Avengers’ Mansion, but he doesn’t want to be the bad guy and ruin the day. Thankfully, Thor doesn’t seem to notice the proximity to his former digs. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before,” Verity says. She’s wearing a multicolored floppy knitted hat that keeps slipping down over one eyebrow and her cheeks are red from the cold. It’s been flurrying on and off since they left the subway station, and a couple of crystals are doggedly surviving on top of her hat. Not that Loki is watching her, or her hat.

Thor smiles, all white teeth and twinkling eyes. “Truly. Though I have spent much time in Manhattan, never have I had occasion to play tourist to the decorated city center.” He pauses, turning his eyes up to the ridiculously tall tree towering over the comparatively tiny ice skaters. “This is indeed a mighty tree. I was not aware that such pines grew in Manhattan.”

If Loki could roll his eyes any harder, he’d hurt himself. “Thor. Seriously. It’s a Christmas tree. They cut it down and truck it in from somewhere – I think this one was Pennsylvania.”

“You know an awful lot about Christmas for someone who boasts about being a Norse god,” Verity teases.

Loki makes a condescending noise. “Well, I do watch the news, in case my brother does something stupid that I need to know about.” Thor grumbles good-naturedly and Verity laughs.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go ice skating.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Loki’s not sure if he’s more alarmed about the thought of ice skating, or the thought of Thor ice skating. “Really?”

“Really,” she grins. “It’s Friday, the crowds aren’t as bad as a weekend, and I bet neither of you have ever skated before.”

Loki tries for a confident “pfft” to imply “I’ve ice skated tons of times, I just don’t feel like it now,” because Verity would know he was lying the moment he opened his mouth, but Thor bounds into the conversation like an overexcited puppy. “That looks to be good fun! The mortals on the ice seem to be having quite a good time. Come, Loki, let us try this skating – it cannot be much harder than sliding on the ice when we were young!”

It isn’t long after they lace up their skates and venture out onto the ice that Thor crashes into the wall that Loki is casually leaning against. “This is much harder than when we were boys,” he huffs.

Thor is out of breath, and clearly clinging onto the wall for dear life. Loki is biting his lip, because he has been trying not to laugh at the flailing awkwardness of Thor’s attempts at skating. On the battlefield, Loki has seen him swing Mjolnir with surprising grace, dodge blows that would catch other warriors unawares, spin to strike at an enemy before they can react. Clearly, this does not confer any skill into the ice rink, as Thor has been limited to short choppy steps with the skates, struggling for balance and to avoid the others spinning past him. 

“Whoever imagined these blades would ease our way across the ice was clearly an idiot,” Thor grouses. “This is worse mischief than I would even expect from you.”

Loki grins at the barb. “This is definitely not my style,” he says. “I’d be much more likely to just bespell the skates to make sure no one could stay balanced on them.” Thor looks down at where his feet are encased in lace-up maroon rental skates, then looks up at Loki and frowns. Loki can’t stop himself from laughing this time. “I have done nothing to your skates, I swear it! Nor to your feet. No, really, I swear. Your skating abilities, or lack thereof, are none of my doing.”

Thor’s still looking suspiciously at his skates as Verity glides over to them. “Are you two okay?” she asks. “Thor, you don’t look like you’re doing too well.”

He smiles bravely at Verity. “Tis an excellent sport! Though perhaps not one I am not best suited for.”

Verity shakes her head, literally skating circles around them, back and forth around where they’re standing. “Don’t be silly. Just because you’ve never done this before doesn’t mean you’re hopeless at it.” Behind Thor’s back, Loki nods and mouths “hopeless!” but Verity ignores him. “Come on, let’s get you back out onto the ice.” 

She extends her arm to Thor. He looks down at her doubtfully, but Verity is wearing her determined face, and he tentatively places his hand on her arm. Unfortunately, determination alone can’t quite keep her upright when Thor leans his weight against her, and she sways. 

Before he can think about it, Loki steps off onto the ice, and takes Thor’s other arm. “Come on, you great ox,” he says, but there’s no rancor in it. “You’ll knock her clear off her skates, on her own. Both of us might be able to keep you upright.”

Thor tilts his head as he looks at Loki. His mouth twists into a funny half-smile before it expands into his usual broad grin. “Well, then,” he booms, “I shall attempt to master this ice yet again!”

Loki and Verity push off at the same time, pulling Thor along with them, and they manage to balance him between them without too much difficulty. It takes a few minutes of shouted directions and demonstrations, but eventually Thor manages to let go of both of them and glide for a few feet without collapsing. His triumphant shout startles several other skaters into nearly falling, but Verity cheers and Loki applauds, skating backwards in front of them. “Show-off,” Verity says, but it only makes him grin, spinning and sailing off across the ice.

He’d caught on to skating almost immediately – after some precarious wobbling and a few tentative steps, the movements suddenly made sense and he was skimming across the ice. It was almost like flying, the cold and the wind pushing back at him and the world rushing past. He’d run up the sides of buildings, he’d danced across clotheslines, but this was better, better. 

Loki spins and loops back to Verity and Thor. She’s still encouraging him, skating slowly to match his tentative pace, but he’s upright on his own two feet. Good enough, Loki thinks, and catches Verity by the hand. 

Her red woolly mitten is cold and wet in his hand, and she laughs as he tugs her along, faster, faster. She wrinkles her nose at him and pushes off with one foot, just a little quicker than him – just to show than she can – but not letting go of his hand. They speed across the ice, movements in tandem, and Loki feels like they’re soaring. On impulse, he tries a turn, and spins Verity around, making her shriek until they’re moving straight ahead again. 

They finally slow to a stop, holding onto the wall in front of the gleaming statue of Prometheus. It’s starting to get dark, and the statue and fountain are brilliantly lit, as is the tree above. The lights reflect off Verity’s glasses in pink and yellow sparkles. “Crazy person,” she says, shaking her head. 

“Mischief incarnate,” Loki replies with a wink. Her hand is still in his, but he doesn’t point that out. 

Thor skates up to them then, beaming. “I have conquered the ice rink!” he says, jubilant. “I have twice circled the ring under my own power! My friends, this calls for a celebration!”

They’re not skating anymore, but Loki feels like something within him is still soaring. “Absolutely!” he says, and he punches Thor’s arm with the hand not holding Verity’s. He nearly knocks Thor off his precarious balance, and Verity looks surprised, but Thor looks most pleased. “Come on. Hot chocolate, on me. Maybe with something stronger added in.”

 

Hot chocolates in hand, they walk up Fifth Avenue, stopping to check out the decorated holiday windows at Saks. Thor marvels at the glittering animated display, and Loki can’t help but be impressed. They pass the towering St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and store upon store, all lit up with glittering lights and shiny glass ornaments to beckon shoppers inside. Bergdorf Goodman’s windows are another fabulous spectacle, all color and light and animated figures. They even venture into FAO Schwarz and wander through the aisles, browsing the impressive displays of every toy imaginable. 

Outside, Loki buys them hot dogs from one of New York’s ever-present street vendors, and they sit on the long marble bench outside the store, watching people walk by. Everyone is bundled up in hats and gloves, some hurrying along the sidewalks, others stopping to gawk at the city’s holiday pageantry. 

Loki looks over at the woman and the god sitting next to him – his best friend and his brother – and wonders at his own luck. He doesn’t deserve a day like this; he certainly doesn’t deserve their friendship and affection. But he is greedy, and selfish, and wouldn’t let go of this for anything. He knows it will all end one day – that this life will burn to the ground – but right now, right here, in the middle of this ridiculous celebration of commercialism, he thinks that maybe the trite seasonal wishes for peace and good will might even extend to him.

“You should stay with me until Christmas,” he suddenly finds himself saying to Thor, who looks up at him in surprise. “I mean. Not that it matters. But it’d be nice to have company for a few weeks. You know, just to make breakfast,” he says quickly, because he is Loki and it would be impossible for him not to have a selfish reason behind it.

Verity says nothing, just quirks an eyebrow at him, and Thor gets that funny half-smile again. “Yes,” he says thoughtfully. “I think that would be acceptable. However, I confess that our tour of the city today has suggested to me that your home is not furnished in the way of Midgardian holidays.”

“Are you saying that I should put up Christmas decorations?” Loki can’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. “Really?”

“I’ll help,” says Verity, amused. “I’ve been told I decorate a mean Christmas tree.”

Loki sighs an exaggerated sigh and drops his head to his hands. “What have I gotten myself into?” he says despondently, glad that they can’t see his smile from behind his hands.


End file.
